control

We are so good at measuring ourselves up against expectations, striving for control, and insisting on being on the inside. We strive to get that promotion, hear back from that date, have a child before 35, own our own apartment with a particular address, have our children accepted into the best schools, prepare and eat only the healthiest of meals, have the clearest of skin, look amazing in that LBD for Sussie’s wedding, and obviously have all the best moves when that music starts to jive. As dancers, it’s owning the most supreme of arches in our feet, the highest extensions in our legs, a most creative, contributive mind in the midst of a new process, a limitless sense of ballon, swift learning capabilities, the most rotated hip sockets, and assessing whether we have the perfect balance of strength and the desirable aesthetic of hyperextension.

Hello, everything that doesn’t actually matter.

Whenever we operate under these terms, we are inevitably either winning or losing the rat race. When we believe we measure up we are floating on top of it all, but damn, when we believe we missed the mark the downward spiral is U.G.L.Y.

Rosamund Stone Zander and her husband Benjamin Zander co-authored a book, “The Art of Possibility,” (genius and an easy read if you ask me!) which unmasks the calculating persona we often hold and suggests living from our more central selves. Rosamund eludes, “the calculating self exists in the world of scarcity and deficiency while the central self operates under conditions of wholeness and sufficiency” (83).

When we start to become aware of our calculating ways, the things that wreak of insecurity and of not having it all, we can start to operate with our central selves where we know that we live in a world of possibilities; we already possess everything we could ever need if we just choose to see the world through a more abundant, optimistically constructive, and (truthfully) more accurate lens.

In terms of dance, which I tend to see all of life be reflected, I can liken the calculating v. central self to the beloved it factor. We all know the it factor – when we experience a performing artist – someone on stage who, for some reason or another, for reasons that seem impossible to define, we can’t take our eyes off of them. They exude this special quality, this clarity, this pureness that is utterly irresistible. The it factor is present when that person is being their most central self. They are not performing from a place of not enough – not enough technical prowess, artistic competence, not enough stamina. Or of wanting to be on the inside – wanting to be loved by the audience, their directors, the critics. Or of measuring their perceived success – against their last performance, against their fellow dancers, against the company that graced the stage before them. They are operating from a place of complete abundance and possibility. There is nothing in that moment they can’t conquer, relish, and indulge in. Even if a moment doesn’t go as planned, that newness brings a fresh possibility, an added flare to their performance, and an extra zing of excitement to their gut. All of which captivatingly transcends to us as beholders.

Sometimes I love not knowing all the dance moves. I take myself off the hook, a.ka. zero expectations (already a strike against the offensive calculating self).

During this past Parsons Summer Intensive, I was taking Elena d’Amario’s modern class, on the second day – so a large part of the combination was already taught and I was left playing catch up. Crapola. I was taking class with all the students from the intensive, who while they believed the pressure was on them to perform to their best, we believed as company members that it was our job to be as fabulous as expected, implying dancing at a high level of competence and retaining material without a glitch. This was completely impossible in this situation. Dancing a whole song, in which I only properly learned the second half, I was inevitably going to make mistakes. But I didn’t care. I knew it wasn’t going to be perfect and I knew I was only going to have the chance to do the combination that afternoon, and I was more than happy with those facts. I had the best time performing my heart out, doing the moves I knew the best I could and either making up the parts I didn’t know (yes, making stuff up that feels right can be oh-so-fun) or doing the moves on the end of the beat as the rest of the group played to the top of the notes to jolt my memory. I wasn’t concerned that my boss, colleagues, and students were watching me have a flaw-filled performance – because damn, I was having a good time. In full disclosure, and fortunate for this moment, I had the privilege of being a part of the company for 5 years and did not feel the need to prove my worth and talent (hello calculating self). Unfortunately, this was not always my mindset – although it should have been. I worked for years, concerned about how David (my boss) and my colleagues perceived my movements and those moments only short-changed my experiences and my dancing.

And now I challenge non-dancing phenomenal women to embody their inner it factor. Whether performing or not (and all life is a performance, is it not?! I believe Liza would agree), the it factor can shine when you are walking down the street in sheer utter bliss without a care in the world, feeling at your most free. (Sometimes it’s with the best song in your ears, the sun shining with the slightest 73 degree breeze strutting Madison Avenue with your favorite outfit on, post-blow out. But don’t be fooled, it can just as easily happen when you are caught in the rain, ruining your shoes, freezing cold, and left with nothing but your nearly-broken paper bag of groceries). You become untouchable, unbreakable. You are approachable and intriguing. People take note of your glow. It’s when out of nowhere you make friends with a stranger on the street. It is when you are talking with someone you just had an argument with and you express yourself honestly, without accusing or disregarding the other’s actions or feelings. It’s when you lead a meeting or give a speech and you are not concerning yourself with petty thoughts of your wrinkled shirt, patronizing eyes of those waiting on your words that are suppose to be of mind-shattering caliber, or whether or not you turned off your stove. You are truly impassioned with your words of the moment and you feel so strongly about your message and its potential to enlighten and motivate others.

Stuff can happen in your performance or (if you insist…) day, that you don’t plan for and that can initially bring forth a feeling of “oh-crap,” but it need not. If you think you need to change something in order to be completely fulfilled, your calculating self is wreaking its havoc as it loves to do. The oh-so-wise Rosamund, suggests we inquire within ourselves as a means of finding our calculating ways:

What would have to change for me to be completely fulfilled?

Our answers often point to our insecurities and our calculating selves’ ruthless attempts of success, belonging, and control. So boo-hoo! If we don’t take ourselves so damn seriously, then those moments aren’t as colossal and therefore, can’t take us down.

So world, if you haven’t already noticed, a slew of women are laughing in the ugly face of control and are unleashing their most fabulous, it-moment selves right and left, so take heed…and don’t be blinded by their inner radiance!